Another Sleepless Night
by The Orange Radish
Summary: Being a dedicated writer is fine and all, but you have to admit; it's pretty creepy when the characters start to sing to you. Based off of The Mysterious Ticking Noise.


**This is a parody off of The Mysterious Ticking Noise on youtube starring various Harry Potter characters.**

**The alternate ending is posted on my profile, just in case you wanted to read it. But be warned; it was written by someone who had just drunken an entire thing of coffee and eaten a lot of sugar.**

Anyway... this is my first shot at a story, so I don't really know how you all are going to like it... please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to Victor Hugo, especially the character of himself.

The Mysterious Ticking Noise belongs to the genius Neil Cicierega.  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was another one of _those _nights.

Victor Hugo slammed his head onto his desk. Oh, how he hated writer's block! After hours of pacing, after countless sheets of paper crumpled into balls, after filling and refilling the inkwell, he _still _couldn't think of a way to end _Les Miserables_.

Should he kill off Cosette? No, that'd be too mean.

And what about Javert? Would it make more sense to have him jump into the Seine, or to hang himself?

"ARGH!" Victor cried out, sending the bird on his windowsill flying off into the sunrise.

Sunrise? What time _was_ it, anyway? He glanced at where the clock used to be, then remembered that he had smashed it last week in frustration over what to name the hypochondriac student.

But then wait; if the clock was gone, where was that ticking noise coming from?

He looked to his right. Hm. Not over there…  
He looked to his left. No, not over there, either…

_Well, no matter_, he thought. _It's kinda catchy, after all_-

"Javert, Javert. Inspector Javert."

Victor whirled around to look at his desk. Had it just… talked?

"Javert, Javert. Inspector Javert."

No, it wasn't his desk that was talking; it was the drawings _on_his desk. There, right before the fine author's eyes was the one of the sketches he had done of Javert, standing up and- and singing.

"EPONIIIIIIIINE!"

The drawing of the beggar girl freed herself from under a book and walked over to stand next to Javert, who was still singing.

"Javert, Javert. Inspector Javert."

"EPONIIIIIIIINE!"

"Javert, Javert. Inspector Javert."

"EPONIIIIIIIINE!"

Victor slowly backed up into the wall. He was imagining this. It must've been what he ate for dinner dinner, playing tricks with his mind-

"Marius!"

Victor jumped. One of the pictures he had tacked to his wall had joined in the song, now; it was the one of the Napoleon fanboy. Marcus, was his name? Or was it Matthew-

"Marius!"

Oh, yes. That's it.

"Marius Pontmercy!"

"EPONIIIIIIIINE!"

"Marius!  
Marius!  
Marius Pontmercy!"

The author, who was now convinced he was losing his mind, searched around for a knife or something. Maybe if he could cut the drawings up…

No. Never. He had worked hard on those.

He walked over to his dresser. If he went to bed, they would all go away. Yes, that would work. As he pulled open his dresser drawers to get his pajamas, a drawing of Cosette that he had shoved in there a while ago popped out.

"Cosette!"

"Oh no, not you too! And I thought you were so sweet," Victor cried. She jumped up into his face. "Cosette!"

He slumped to the floor. This was madness.

"Javert, Javert. Inspector Javert."

"EPONIIIIIIINE!"

"Marius!  
Marius!  
Marius Pontmercy!"

"Cosette, Cosette, Cosette."

Suddenly, one of his drawing crawled its way out of his trashcan and ran across the floor to his desk. The tattered piece of paper stood at the foot of the table and yelled up at the drawing of the Inspector.

"JEAN VALJEAN! JEAN VALJEAN! OH!  
JEAN VALJEAN! JEAN VALJEAN! YEA!  
JEAN VALJEAN! JEAN VALJEAN! OH!  
JEAN VALJEAN! JEAN VALJEAN! THAT'S ME!

Obviously annoyed at being yelled at, the Javert drawing jumped down onto the floor and stood in front of the Valjean drawing.

"Javert!" he said.

"Valjean!" the other sketch retorted.

"Javert!"

"Valjean!"

"Javert!!"

"Valjean!!"

"JAVERT!"

"VALJEAN!"

_Oh my God, they're fighting, _thought Hugo. _Not even their drawings get along!_

Meanwhile, Javert had started hitting Valjean on the head with his little paper nightstick.

"JAVERRRT!!!!!"

"VALJEAAAAN!!!!!"

They were interrupted by a book falling off the desk and almost crushing them. Hugo looked up to see who had pushed it off. There was Eponine, standing triumphantly on the desk with a crazed expression on her paper face.

"EPONIIIIIIIINE!!!!"

"Cooooosette!" said the pretty girl standing on the dresser.

"EPONIIIIIIIIIINE!!!"

"I'm Jean Valjean.  
Yea, I'm Jean Valjean."

"Marius!  
Marius!"

"Javert. Javert. Inspector Javert."

Then, as if planned, they all stop singing and in unison shouted:  
"SINGING OUR SONG  
ALL NIGHT LONG  
IN PARRRRRRIIIIIIIIS!"

Victor decided he couldn't take anymore of this. He grabbed his hat and ran out of his room and into the street. He looked around, breathing heavily. Had the drawings followed him?

A passing cop on his nightly patrol stopped to look at the disgruntled man standing in the middle of the path. "Are you all right, sir?" he asked. "It's awfully late out and-"

"They're alive," whispered Hugo.

"Excuse me?" inquired the cop.

"THEY'RE ALIVE, I TELL YOU!" screamed Victor, grabbing the cop by the coat. "AND THEY'RE OUT TO GET ME!"

"Is, uh… Is there something that you want me to do?" asked the cop warily, backing up.

"Come into my apartment! They don't like me. They mock me. Me, their controller! But you! You are a figure of higher authority. They will listen to you. Tell them to leave me alone. Tell them to stop."

"Who, exactly, sir?"

"The drawings, of course."

_Oh, what the heck,_ thought the cop. He really had nothing better to do. Plus, it would give him a good story to tell around the station.

Before they entered the room, Hugo put his ear to the door. "They stopped signing," he whispered. "But I'm sure they're just hiding."

"Right, said the cop, playing along. "Of course. Drawings have a tendency to do that."

Hugo opened up the door slowly. Nothing happened.

He led the cop into the room. Still nothing happened.

"They should start singing soon," the author whispered.

And still, nothing happened.

"Yea, well, this was entertaining. But I'm going to go back to patrolling now." He left the room.

Victor sat down on his bed. Why had they all stopped?

Well, of course. He had been imagining the whole thing. He had to have been.

With that resolved, he climbed into bed laughing at himself for how foolish he had acted.

But even so, has he was drifting off to sleep, he swore he heard a tiny voice singing:

"Thenardier, Thenardier. Ooo, Thenard Thenard Thenardier!"

THE END


End file.
